


A Helping Hand

by Ghostwriter (Zoya_Zalan)



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya_Zalan/pseuds/Ghostwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon has a problem; Obi-Wan offers to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: George Lucas owns all things Star Wars; I'm just borrowing. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Many thanks to my master, Hilary, for her insightful beta. :) As always, any mistakes in the final draft are entirely my own.

~ * ~ * ~

Qui-Gon Jinn was very annoyed. Frustration radiated from him in waves as Obi-Wan Kenobi peeked into his room to see whether he was all right. The older man lay with his head turned away from the door, but Obi-Wan could easily sense the scowl which undoubtedly dominated his features.

"Master?"

"I'm fine, Obi-Wan."

The Jedi apprentice stepped inside and moved towards the bed, ignoring the forced politeness in his master's tone that all but said 'go away.' Keen eyes scanned the disheveled bed covers with some concern. Qui-Gon's heavily wrapped hands were resting in positions of exasperated relaxation, as if he'd simply thrown them away from his body in a fit of irritation. A short tail of white gauze trailed suspiciously from one of them.

"Master, you know you must keep these on until your hands are fully healed," Obi-Wan reminded him gently as he sat down to fix the bandage. "The bacta gel will leak if they come undone."

"I'm aware of that. I'm sorry you had to be bothered," the older man clipped, keeping his voice quiet.

Obi-Wan studied his master's face intently as he worked - what little he could see of it anyway; the older man still hadn't turned to look at him. Qui-Gon was definitely upset about something, and Obi-Wan doubted the frustration of having to rest and heal was the only thing behind whatever it was. The elder Jedi wasn't exactly the most patient man in the Order, but he did know the value of recovery time.

"Helping you is no bother," Obi-Wan murmured soothingly.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes at the younger man's words, embarrassment creeping across his face in a heated flush. "I'm sorry, Padawan. I don't mean to be difficult."

"Would you like to talk about whatever is upsetting you? Perhaps I can help in some way."

A soft, mirthless chuckle slid past the older man's lips. "I doubt that. My Force control is non-existent; I'm simply having a hard time dealing with it."

"The pain medication you're on does affect the ability to focus, but you shouldn't need it for much longer." Obi-Wan continued to watch the other man carefully, his brow furrowing. Qui-Gon had endured a loss of Force control on several occasions in the past, but he'd never reacted quite like this. After a few moments, the apprentice finally ventured, "Are you certain there isn't something else wrong, Master?"

Qui-Gon swallowed noticeably, but otherwise remained silent.

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. Something was going on here, and he intended to find out what it was. Reaching out through the Force, the younger Jedi unobtrusively scanned his master for any indication of further injury or discomfort. If Qui-Gon was experiencing any kind of pain, from the burn injuries or otherwise, he would most likely keep that information to himself to avoid another trip to the healer's wing.

After a few moments of intense concentration, the answer presented itself to the apprentice in a dazzling display of Force currents which were weaving themselves around the older man. Obi-Wan couldn't help but grin, recognizing the pattern instantly from his own experiences. Qui-Gon was definitely in a great deal of distress, but not from any injury...the Jedi master was highly aroused, probably painfully so. With his hands wrapped as they were and his control of the Force deadened from the medication, there was no way for him to comfortably relieve his most delicate of situations.

"It isn't very polite to pry."

The sound of Qui-Gon's voice did nothing to wipe the smile from the younger man's face. If anything, his grin broadened. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I apologize for intruding on such a personal...problem."

The elder Jedi took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It was his only response.

"I _could_ help you with this, you know."

Blue eyes locked quickly onto Obi-Wan's, a curious mixture of glacial aggravation and humiliation stirring in their depths. "Padawan."

"I know," Obi-Wan held up a hand in acknowledgement. "It's improper for us to discuss this issue until after I've been knighted."

"Yes, it is."

"But considering the fact that you're partially incapacitated, a bit of assistance from me would be warranted, would it not?"

Qui-Gon's face flushed crimson. It was bad enough that he desired the younger man very deeply, but to have his body betray him like this at such an inopportune time... "It will pass," he insisted, "and I will certainly survive."

Obi-Wan's grin had softened, his face taking on an almost clinical look of concern. "Yes, but how long have you been sitting here fuming over your predicament? I first sensed your agitation nearly twenty minutes ago."

Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon willed himself to remain calm. Willing his penis to stand down, on the other hand, seemed a hopeless waste of brain power, especially now that his padawan had skirted the one topic which was taboo between them. Just having the younger man sitting so close to him while he was in such a state was almost too much to bear. "Obi-Wan," he objected, trying hard to put a warning behind his words.

"One who is injured should be calm and relaxed, not angry and frustrated," Obi-Wan began as he got up and headed for the 'fresher. He promptly returned to his master's bedside carrying a small towel and the bottle of sweet-smelling massage oil that Qui-Gon kept around to aid with sore muscles. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he sat back down even though his tone and expression remained sober. "I'm afraid this problem should be dealt with. Quickly."

The elder Jedi stared in disbelief. He wasn't actually suggesting...?

"The way I see it, you have three choices," Obi-Wan explained. "You could continue to suffer and hope the problem goes away by itself, thereby violating direct orders from the healers that you are to rest comfortably; I could assist you by using the Force to _deflate_ the problem, or I could relieve the problem in a much more...enjoyable manner," he finished, absently tapping the cover of the massage oil.

"That wouldn't be a good idea, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon rasped softly. His throat felt thoroughly parched.

Obi-Wan gazed back knowingly, his face never betraying the whirlwind of emotions that swirled just beneath the surface. "Will you allow me to help?" he asked quietly, insistently.

"We mustn't ––"

"We won't," Obi-Wan countered gently as he unfolded the towel and carefully laid it on Qui-Gon's chest over his sleeping tunic. "A 'relationship' of any kind – as defined by the Code - would require far more than simply lending a helping hand." The barest hint of a smile rippled across Obi-Wan's expression.

Qui-Gon nearly laughed at his padawan's choice of words, but the urge to do so died on his lips as deft fingers pulled back the coverlet, revealing his loosely clothed legs...as well as the obvious bulge at his groin. He bit back a moan as Obi-Wan reached for the tie at his waist, stopping a hair's breadth away from it.

Blue fused with bright green then, a thousand different thoughts passing silently between them – a thousand thoughts and a thousand desires, though anyone watching would have only seen two men gazing calmly at one another.

"Do you want me to stop?" Obi-Wan whispered.

Qui-Gon swallowed, trying desperately to clear his throat enough to speak, but it didn't help; his vocal chords had been effectively silenced by the enormity of what was about to happen. He was ashamed at how badly he wanted the younger man to touch him, even if it meant nothing more could happen between them for the time being. There could be no slow lovemaking, no cozy snuggling...no kisses or whispered endearments. Only this.

Taking Qui-Gon's lack of response as tacit permission, Obi-Wan began his ministrations, the tie of the sleep pants coming undone with the barest flick of his wrist. Material shifted soundlessly, making way for the large, weeping erection that jutted proudly from Qui-Gon's body. The apprentice studied the member raptly, memorizing every beautiful contour of the turgid length. Small bright red veins crisscrossed the partially-covered head, making it look terribly angry and demanding.

"You must be extremely uncomfortable," Obi-Wan choked out as he dragged his eyes away from the mouthwatering sight. His brow knitted together in concentration as he uncapped the bottle of oil and poured some into his hand. After warming the oil with a touch of the Force, the younger man slowly wrapped his hand around his master's organ.

The intimate touch forced Qui-Gon's voice back into action, the air in his lungs leaving him in a deep, breathy moan. Obi-Wan. Touching him. There...oh yes, there...

The young Jedi's eyes widened slightly as the hard, hot length in his grip twitched strongly, not once, but twice, each spasm accompanied by the subtle nudge of slender hips.

An invitation. Or a plea.

Spreading the oil generously, Obi-Wan began with a gentle stroke, searching for the rhythm which would offer the most amount of pleasure to the older man. Qui-Gon certainly wasn't going to last long, that much he knew. The sexual tension coiled inside him was nearly palpable after fighting his own frustration for so long.

Qui-Gon gasped loudly as Obi-Wan concentrated his efforts on the head of his penis, sliding the foreskin back and forth relentlessly, over and over. Obi-Wan was certainly being efficient in his task, quickly bringing him to the verge of orgasm without any teasing whatsoever. Apparently he too understood the necessity of keeping this situation between them from getting out of control.

Qui-Gon thrust his hips in encouragement. Gods, he needed this! He'd ached for so long...and this was his beautiful Obi-Wan, his devoted, compassionate padawan learner - the man he loved so deeply that it hurt sometimes. It was his hand caressing him, coaxing the pleasure out with such a confident touch. That thought alone drove Qui-Gon even further toward release. He could feel the inevitable build-up beginning, sizzling across his nerve endings until his voice became one long string of impassioned groans.

Obi-Wan watched, mesmerized, as his master succumbed to passion's tide, those strong, normally serene features contorted into a mask of pure ecstasy. Qui-Gon's head was tipped back, his Adam's apple bobbing reflexively under sweat-beaded flesh as he fought to rein in the sounds of his growing excitement. His eyes were clamped shut and his lips were parted slightly, his ragged breaths coming in harsh counterpoint to the sound of skin sliding on skin. Obi-Wan had dreamed of seeing this wanton expression on his beloved master's face for so long, dreamed of giving the older man such pleasure. He didn't want this moment to end. It would be years before he would be allowed to take his Trials, and until then the topic of romance and intimacy would have to remain unspoken. This moment was their only solace, the only taste of the sweet, sweet things to come once Obi-Wan's padawan braid had been removed. Gods, but he loved Qui-Gon Jinn...

Pumping insistently, Obi-Wan felt his master's member firm even further, becoming impossibly hard between his loving fingers. A moment later, Obi-Wan watched through tear-filled eyes as Qui-Gon climaxed, his whole body arching into the waves of pleasure as he spilled his seed in quick, heated spurts all over the towel on his chest. It was the most beautiful thing the young man had seen. Ever.

Gasping for breath, Qui-Gon fought back his own tears as his body vibrated in the afterglow of intense pleasure. This had been a dream come true, having his padawan touch him like this, but even now, his joy was tainted with sorrow. How he longed to pull his padawan into his arms, to kiss him and hug him and ravish that unbearably magnificent young body until he knew every curve and crevice, every sound and taste and scent that was undeniably Obi-Wan...

Instead, he simply opened his eyes to gaze at his companion, allowing his love to shine through. "Obi-Wan..." he murmured breathlessly, but the padawan shushed him softly while he gathered up the towel. After quick trip to the 'fresher, Obi-Wan returned carrying a warm, wet washcloth, which he used to rub across Qui-Gon's neck and what part of his chest he could reach, helping to sooth the older man further. He then wiped the relaxed organ gently, removing the last remnants of the intense experience before slipping it back into the confines of Qui-Gon's sleep pants. All of this was accomplished efficiently, albeit lovingly, and it wasn't until he was through that Obi-Wan finally met his master's gaze.

The two Jedi looked at one another for long moments before a smile finally crept across Obi-Wan's face. There was so much written in that simple gesture...all his love, all the wonder he felt at having witnessed and participated in this extraordinary experience – it was all there. That and more.

Qui-Gon couldn't help but grin back. Truly, if the Council ever found out what had transpired here today, medical excuse or no, there would be hell to pay. Much reflection would be required on both their parts to come to terms with the incredible intimacy that they'd just shared. It would be hard to continue on as if nothing had happened, but Qui-Gon was certain that they would find a way.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan."

The sincerity in his master's voice nearly brought another wave of tears to Obi-Wan's eyes, but he fought them back. His smile widened as he pulled the coverlet back up to Qui-Gon's chest, smoothing the material which covered flesh he longed to learn. And he would...someday. "You're welcome, Master," he whispered, his vocal chords utterly useless in the wake of such passion.

Obi-Wan fluffed the pillow behind Qui-Gon's head, making sure his master was completely comfortable before he got up to leave. The sound of his name being spoken once more made him pause at the doorway. Turning, he gazed into his beloved's eyes, which looked incredibly blue in the dimming light of day.

Qui-Gon hesitated. What words could possibly express what he was feeling right now? None, adequately. But perhaps a bit of hope for the future, something to acknowledge the growing love between them while hinting at things to come. His padawan learner deserved that much after his selfless display of affection and compassion.

The corner of his mouth tugging into a mischievous grin, Qui-Gon said, "We have much to look forward to." Even that admission was extremely close to breaking the rules of silence on this issue, but he couldn't help himself.

Obi-Wan flushed deeply at the sentiment, finally allowing himself to react to the intensely intimate act which had taken place between them. His smile broadened, an impish twinkle sparkling in his eyes. Instead of answering with words, the padawan allowed all his love and anticipation to thrum openly through their training bond before he finally stepped into the common room and closed the door quietly behind him. That would definitely be a precious day for both of them.

Precious, indeed.

~ * ~ **finis** ~ * ~


End file.
